


Weight In Gold

by proudspires



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Guzma gets caught manhandling, Guzma/F!Moon, Guzma/OC kinda, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I'm actual literal trash for this I'm sorry, Just let me live my dreams ok, Mostly warning for Guzma being Guzma ya feel, Plot Bending for age shit, Some Feels Snuck in There
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 07:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proudspires/pseuds/proudspires
Summary: Guzma has gotten a little too comfortable in Kalei'ah's house. It was really only a matter of time before that came around to bite him in the ass.





	Weight In Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic that I'm posting on here, and basically in a very long time (so please be gentle with me). This is with my Moon protag Kalei'ah, and I did some time-fucking in order to age her up just for the fuckery of everything, so I hope you enjoy it! Any and all feedback is appreciated.

Kalei’ah had been back in Alola for about two days before Guzma made himself at home in her house. It wasn’t that she minded, Guzma didn’t think - she certainly didn’t act like she minded - but it was more like he minded. He didn’t like how comfortable he was around her. This was different than just fucking whenever they wanted to - this was waking up and walking into the bathroom, half-asleep, realizing that so many of his own things were now in her house that if he went home, he’d be sorely misplaced. He wouldn’t be comfortable in _his own home_ because so much of his _shit_ was _here._

He tried not to think about it too much, or for too long. If he started letting it roll around in his head, suddenly he was thinking about how they should probably have “a talk” about “what they were”. Guzma wasn’t very much a fan of _that,_ so instead of dealing with any kind of change head-on, he resolved to just act like everything was fine. It hadn’t failed him in the past.

Kale rarely woke up before him when she was back in Alola. Old-Man-Hala insisted that if Guzma wanted to continue working with him, he’d have to get up at a “reasonable hour” - which was, inherently, very fucking unreasonable in Guzma’s opinion. He wasn’t willing to give up his mornings with the guy, though, so here he was rising with the fucking sun to get “good”, or whatever -- and as an ex-champ he supposed Kalei’ah deserved the occasional sleep-in.

By the time he got back to the house, pleasantly sore and a little sweaty from the combination of physically demanding work and the Alolan humidity, Kale was awake. He walked in through the sun room, spotting her putting dishes away in the kitchen through the open hallway; she was wearing the shorts he liked the best, and he so liked them because they 1.) barely covered her ass, and she 2.) only wore them around the house when she didn’t plan on having company, which meant the sight was his and his alone.

“Good morning to me!” he exclaimed as he sauntered in, tossing his jacket onto the table. Kale had opened her mouth to say something to him when his hand made direct contact with her ass in a playful slap, eliciting an indignant noise. “Fuck, you know I love these shorts on you. You probably wore them on purpose, didn’t you? Not that I _mind,_ I mean, nobody could complain about the si -- baby, what?”

She wasn’t reciprocating the affection like she normally was. Guzma didn’t do things she didn’t like on purpose - and he knew that she liked that he liked her ass so much. So why did she look absolutely mortified? Why did she _not_ look endeared that he was helping himself to what he wanted, like usual?

He waited expectantly for what felt like a thousand years, but was probably actually thirty seconds, for something. He didn’t know what - he’d been originally expecting something flirtatious or dirty, per their usual routine, but since that seemed like it was off the table now, was she going to scold him? He could be into that.

Instead, she said, “Hi, mom.”

_Yikes._

Guzma’s head whipped around to the hallway behind them - the one that led to the living room and bedrooms - and spotted a woman who was, essentially, the older version of his sort-of-kind-of-girlfriend. From what Kale had said, Okalani Vesikuru was a nice woman. Kind, wholesome, loving despite the things that had been dealt her in life. And now, the very first introduction she was getting to Guzma aside from hearing about him as a _fucking gang leader_ was walking into a room where he was grabbing a handful of her daughter’s ass.

He didn’t know what to do. His hand was _already_ on her ass, and he liked it there, and her mom had already seen it there, so it was kind of moot to remove it, right? Or should he still, just out of respect, and try to act sheepish when the only reason he would really be sheepish was because Okalani was probably the first woman aside from Kale that he actually wanted to make a good impression on?

Kalei’ah made the decision for him. She swatted his hand away, her cheeks flushing a dusky colour when her mortification reached her face. Okalani looked - well, confused, mostly. Maybe a little uncomfortable, but inherently confused.

“You remember - um…” Kale seemed to be at a loss for words. Guzma probably would have been laughing if that didn’t seem insensitive, because the sight of Kalei’ah speechless for once was hilarious to him. 

“Guzma,” he supplied. Okalani cleared her throat and nodded.

“I do. I wasn’t expecting him - well, here.”

“Yeah, most people aren’t,” he replied agreeably, and Kalei’ah’s gaze darted to him in a warning flicker. If she could say something so foul in front of her mother, she’d probably be offering to strangle him if he didn’t promptly shut the fuck up. Crossing his arms leisurely over his chest, Guzma rocked back on his heels a little and smiled at his girl like nothing was wrong.

“He’s staying here sometimes,” Kale offered after a moment. Okalani’s smile, amused, matched the slight rise of her eyebrows in response to her daughter’s statement - which Guzma understood to mean, ‘oh, he’s just staying here sometimes?’, and suddenly he understood exactly where it was Kale got her attitude from.

Kale’s cheeks went even more red when her mother said, “I see.”

“Mom, we’re gonna - just make yourself at home in the living room, we’ll be right back.”

Okalani didn’t laugh, but Guzma could tell she wanted to. Instead, she let her gaze drift from her thoroughly embarrassed daughter to Guzma, not entirely trusting but more open than most people. That was really all he could ask from her, anyway. After everything.

“Sure thing,” she replied. “Don’t be long.”

“We won’t.” Kale gave Guzma a look when he made a very pleased noise, and said again, “We won’t.”

He waved with one hand while the brunette dragged him into the bedroom they’d been sharing, standing comfortably and watching her quickly shut the door and breathe in what was probably relief. Short-lived relief, however, because after she had regained herself she seemed to remember the terrible way Guzma had been introduced to her mother.

“What the fuck.” _Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,_ he thought amusedly. He sat on the end of the bed while Kalei’ah quickly stripped out of the oh-so-criminal shorts and shimmied into some jeans.

“What are you so worried about?” He asked, which earned him a glare.

Kalei’ah pulled her tank top off over her head, rustled around for another shirt, and said, “Well, you just grabbed my ass right in front of my mom.”

“So?” Guzma countered. He let out a big sigh. “It can’t be any worse than what she thought of me before.”

Kalei’ah paused, looking at Guzma through the mirror in the vanity before she turned to really look at him. Fuck, he hated when she did that.

“She didn’t hate you before. You aren’t a bad person, G.” Her voice was soft. Guzma’s nose scrunched up and he looked away, focusing on the open door to the closet instead of the way she was looking at him, making his chest tighten up.

“Don’t - do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that. With those big fuckin’ doe eyes -”

The bed dipped next to him with the girl’s weight. He didn’t surrender and look at her until he felt her arm sliding around his abdomen and her warmth pressing against his shoulder. Reluctantly, he turned his gaze back to her.

“You aren’t a bad person,” she repeated, and when she looked at him with those eyes he could almost believe her.

He groaned, rolling his eyes and flopping back against the bed. “Okay, whatever, so I’m not a bad person and your mom doesn’t hate me.”

“Or she didn’t,” Kalei’ah pointed out, lighter than before, “before she walked in on you manhandling me.”

Guzma scoffed. “You like it.”

“Not in front of my mother.”

“In my defense,” he protested, “you know I fucking love those shorts. Every time you wear them and then I come home, you’re all on me wantin’ some, so really, this is all your fault and I’m an innocent caught in the crossfire. What are you doing, wearing our fucking shorts with your mom home?”

“They aren’t ‘our fucking shorts’, they’re just shorts I wear!” 

It was Kalei’ah’s turn to roll her eyes, and she did. With gusto. She’d grown quiet, though, staring absently at the door, so from where he lay he spread a warm hand along the small of her back.

“You know,” he began, wondering what it was going on in her head, and if she were reconsidering her claim that he wasn’t a bad person, “I really like this shirt on you, too.”

Kalei’ah groaned. “Stop.”

“I mean it. And these tight-ass jeans.” He sat up, wanting - more than anything - to just make her smile again and not look so devastated. It would be fine if she wasn’t disappointed in how he’d met her mother. It would be fine if he could just -- not disappoint someone for once. 

It was his turn to wrap his arms around her now, nuzzling her neck and kissing there. “But I like anything on you. You could wear a fuckin’ trash bag and I’d still want to jump your bones.”

“A trash bag?” Kale looked as if she were considering it. “I don’t know, that seems pretty impractical to take on and off. Plus, there really isn’t anything more unsexy feeling than a trash bag-”

“You are - so bad at dirty talk.”

She laughed, finally, and he felt a little wave of relief wash over him. He reached up and guided her to turn her face so that their noses could brush and he could feel like things were going to be okay, even if it was just for a minute, even if it was just a placebo and she wasn’t going to leave.

“I know I’m not - ideal,” he tried again, and the discomfort he felt at saying something seriously was welling up inside of him. “But -”

“Nobody is ideal,” Kale corrected. “Not you, or me, or my mom, or -”

“You don’t have to coddle me.”

“I’m _not,”_ she insisted. “I mean it. You aren’t ideal in every sense, but I’d be an idiot if I just ignored how it felt like you fit perfectly for me. You know, aside from - the sex, and everything…”

Guzma took in a deep breath. “Is this becoming the ‘what are we’ talk?”

Kalei’ah grimaced and said, “I don’t know, is that supposed to happen before you meet my mom?”

“Too late now, either way.”

Another stretch of quiet passed between them, but it was more comfortable than before. Guzma reached up and hooked a hand under the crook of her knees, swinging her so that she was straddling his lap instead of just sitting next to him. His hands found the curves of her hips, and as easy as breathing, her own hands tangled into his hair and she was pressing her lips against his.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said after a moment of kissing, and he sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but - we kind of do.”

“Not right now,” Kale suggested. He nodded.

“Yeah. Right now, we could just…”

Her hand snatched his from where it had been drifting to her ass. She huffed. “No fucking way. Not with my mom-”

“Okay, yikes, I get it!”

Kalei’ah grinned, climbing out of his lap and adjusting her clothes. He stood, too, reaching up and smoothing out a wild, stray hair behind her ear.

“Go shower,” she said, and he wasn’t aware that an order coming from someone could be filled with so much affection. She rested a hand on his chest, smoothing out his shirt. “You’re all sweaty.”

“You like it.”

She laughed, and didn’t disagree, but kissed him one last time before she went out to presumably do some kind of damage control with her mom. Or, if what she said was real, and he wasn’t a bad person that her mother already hated, it was just to ease some of the embarrassment.

The rest of the evening went surprisingly well. It wasn’t as awkward for Guzma, probably because he’d figured the damage was already done with any reputation he had preceding him, so really, how bad could it be? When he’d come out of his shower and emerged to try socializing, Kalei’ah seemed far more comfortable -- and her mother looked at him with a warm gaze and told him to sit with them a while.

The only thing that was uncomfortable was seeing a mother who actually cared about her child - and if there was anyone who deserved that, he guessed it was Kale.

When Okalani left that evening, promising that next time she would call and make sure Guzma knew she was coming over, he felt oddly satisfied. The woman had hesitated, as though she wanted to hug him, but sensing his discomfort she’d merely given his shoulder a squeeze. He’d never met someone that he didn’t need to explain everything to, besides Kalei’ah and maybe Hala, too. People always expected an explanation for what he’d done.

Fuck, he thought, standing in the doorway of the kitchen and watching his girl finish putting away the dishes like she’d been doing that morning, I’m turning into a damn sap.

His hand found the small of her back and her movements stilled, almond gaze turned inquisitively in his direction.

“Go get into some comfortable clothes,” he suggested. “I can finish this.”

A smile warmed her otherwise pensive expression, and she kissed him with a gentle touch to his jaw before she pulled back.

“Hmm, I could get used to you helping out around the house,” she teased, disappearing down the hall to their bedroom. Guzma took in a deep breath and began stacking dried plates back into the cupboard, glancing around.

It all felt very foreign. If he sat there and really thought about it, did he belong in this world if Kalei’ah wasn’t right next to him? Without her in the house, was any of this who he was? And if it was, how did he just - stop being that person he had been before? Almost everyone who saw him now working with Hala, drifting in and out of Kalei’ah’s house... They looked at him like he didn’t belong. And he didn’t think that he belonged, either.

We don’t have to talk about it, she’d said. But for the first time, limbo wasn’t satisfying enough for him, and he felt an odd hunger to settle this strange conflict lingering in the hollow of his chest.

Fuck.

He peeled his t-shirt off over his head on his way to the bedroom, doing his best not to let it show how odd he was feeling (you know, for a guy who likes to avoid his problems to want to deal with a problem could be pretty distracting). Kale had curled up in bed, dark hair tossed up into a bun and, apparently, contacts out and glasses on.

She lifted her arms and held them out expectantly. She didn’t need to say anything, and Guzma didn’t need to ask; he tossed his shirt haphazardly onto the floor and climbed onto the bed, sidling up to her so that she could loop her arms around his neck. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said, and the dismay was clear in his voice. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. When he grimaced, she laughed.

“We’ll make it quick and easy, then,” she suggested, laying back against the pillows and letting him linger over her. “We’ve pretty much been dating. You’ve taken up a fairly permanent residency in my home.”

“Yeah.”

“But-”

“Kind of better than dating, because we’d fuck and have a good time without the pressure of dating,” Guzma ventured. She nodded, running a hand along his chest absently and then glancing up to meet his gaze. She shifted a little.

“But kind of not better than dating,” she added after a minute, and it was his turn to nod. He wasn’t sure if it was really better than dating. Some aspects were, but - would he really be okay if Kale decided she wanted to be with someone else? He wasn’t a fucking pussy, he’d take it like a man, but fuck if the thought didn’t put him into immediate discomfort. He took in a big breath, sighing and closing his eyes for a minute before he shrugged.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re my girl.” He sat back on his knees a little, scratching his abdomen. “You know?”

Kalei’ah looked pleased. So pleased, in fact, that Guzma was sure he detected a trace of a flush colouring her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but grin. He sometimes forgot that Kale really hadn’t dated a lot of people. _Wow, how shitty I’m that one of her first,_ he thought, and he had to stop himself from laughing. When he focused his gaze on her again, she was watching him pensively. He groaned.

“What?”

“You want me to be your girlfriend.” She sounded smug. She looked smug. That coy little quirk of her lips at the corners almost erased the slight panic that putting a name to his feelings was giving him. He leaned back over, pressing his thumb into her soft lower lip.

“Don’t sound so pleased,” he said. “I’m not sure if you’re really getting a good deal or a punishment with this one.”

“Shut up,” Kalei’ah replied, and he felt his chest tighten because she said it so warmly, pressing her lips against his palm in a kiss, glancing up at him through her lashes. “I want you.”

He laughed. It made his stomach twist when she looked at him like that, said things like that. “Say no more, pants are coming off.”

“I mean it.” She nudged his hand away, sitting up from the pillows. It was her turn then, cupping his face with her hands. “I want you. Here, with me. It’s not going to be perfect but - I wouldn’t want it if it was.”

Guzma’s face screwed up, and he exhaled, feeling her squish his cheeks a little. “I gotcha. Please release my face, Great Mistress.”

“Okay, good. Now kiss me before I put my night guard in.”

“Oh, no, baby,” he purred, yanking her close to him. “Put that nightguard in and then I’ll kiss you. _So_ fucking hot.”

“Gross!”

He found himself laughing in spite of the anxiety that had decided to camp out in his stomach. He kissed her, again and again, until she was laughing breathlessly between each touch of their lips. And when she finally convinced him to let her sleep and that he should sleep too, because Hala wouldn’t tolerate him being late, he laid in bed in the dark for a little while until he was sure she was asleep.

He just wanted to make sure he did things right this time.


End file.
